


altered

by days4daisy



Category: Doctor Strange (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Community: hc_bingo, Dimension Travel, Dubious Consent, Infinity War-Typical Doom and Gloom, M/M, Resurrection, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 17:01:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16099949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy
Summary: Stephen searches for the one timeline where victory is possible. Thanos waits for him.





	altered

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my Hurt/Comfort Bingo Card: Witch Hunt. A bit of a not-literal take on this one.
> 
> Enjoy :)

After the first 500,000 outcomes, Stephen knows he is being watched.

His own death plays out in a continuous loop of horror. Stephen does not want to watch, but every outcome is just different enough that he must. Self-sacrifice, no sacrifice, a blocked strike, a cowardly retreat. Stephen sees himself burn in a blaze of the power stone’s might. A gap in space itself swallows Stephen whole. He collapses under a falling moon - because yeah, even a damn moon can be a weapon in Thanos’ arsenal.

Stephen’s doppelganger deserts his friends and steals the guardians’ ship. He lets the kid die in one future. In the next, Stephen takes the death blow meant for him.

From Earth, can Stephen and Wong protect the time stone together? Can Stephen destroy the mind stone, and Vision with it? If Stephen does so with the time stone in his possession, can Thanos still win?

In short - yes, he can.

Years of study and practice cannot prepare Stephen for this onslaught. Every new vision forms another crack in Stephen’s mind. Stephen sees himself evaporate like mist on a summer day. Cities erupt in chaos, fires break out, windows shatter. Stephen tastes the tears of trillions, and his ears throb from their misery.

Two million timelines. In this one, Thanos looks directly at him.

“I thought that was you, wizard.” The Titan rises from the soil of his broken planet. Around him, the sky smolders, and bodies litter the ground. Stark’s iron suit is half-gone, jagged, like something has taken a bite out of him. The kid lies face down. Quill, Drax, Mantis; all dead.

The daughter of Thanos has not appeared in this timeline; Stephen notes this. Thanos will overpower them every time, but they have to stall him long enough to get all the pieces on the board.

Thanos advances, fingers blue with dried blood. “Come,” he tells Stephen, “we have much to discuss.”

Stephen sees the ship acquired from Maw explode in the atmosphere of Titan. He sees a nuclear strike waged on Wakanda as Thanos’ vessels plant in the countryside.

Stephen’s alter ego whispers “I’m sorry” before the boy Peter turns to ash in his arms. He watches in resigned silence as a blade pierces Stark’s stomach, his chest, his face. Stephen is boiled, drowned, and flattened. He hangs from a metal leash on Earth screaming as Christine ghosts away inches from him.

“You still have the time stone, I see.” Thanos’ voice touches Stephen’s ear. He is close.

Stephen sees life disintegrate into dust. Worlds collapse into despair and desperation. Stephen sees abandoned homes, parents without children, children without parents.

“We all sacrifice, wizard.” Thanos’ words rumble along the fabric of Stephen’s mind. “The most important things are never easy.”

Three million futures, four million; so much death, so much screaming. Stephen’s mind bends under the strain. His vision blurs, his chest aches.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” Thanos’ heavy grip traps Stephen’s neck. “You wear the stone better than many would,” he says. “It is a powerful thing you carry, a burden not meant for your kind.”

“Better in our hands than yours,” Stephen croaks. He fights to break free of Thanos’ chokehold.

“You think so,” Thanos acknowledges. “I’ve caught you enough times to know you truly believe it. You’re wrong, but I understand. I know what it’s like to lose, how desperate it feels.”

Stephen barks a surprised laugh. “You know what it’s like to lose?” Thanos nods. “Mind sharing? That will save us both a lot of time.”

Thanos smiles. “You’re funny,” he says. “In your darkest moments, when your body and magic fail, you still cling to your wit. I admire that.”

Stephen twists in his grip. “Well,” he snarls, “good thing I’m here for your admiration.”

“In this timeline? No.” Thanos plucks at the time stone dangling from Stephen’s neck. It should not be possible, it _can’t_ be possible, but fear still closes Stephen’s throat. “If only it were as easy as taking this from you now,” Thanos muses. “It would spare us both much hardship.”

“Oh yeah, death and mass destruction seem exhausting for you.”

“More than you can know.” Thanos’ thumb crosses Stephen’s neck. “Have I told you about my home yet?” There are timelines, apparently, where Thanos tells Stephen the history of his planet. This, Stephen stores away too. Who knows if it means anything. But it may, and possibility is all Stephen has so far.

Thanos flexes the gauntlet. Around them, the ruins of Titan blossom with new life. The planet is reborn with blue skies and green grass. Smiling shadows cross their path without a glance. The majority stand above Stephen, but Thanos’ sheer size and strength seem unique to him alone.

“It’s wonderful,” Thanos says, “isn’t it? Titan was like most planets. Beauty in the eye of the beholder, I suppose, but I miss it every day. Home.” He speaks wistfully, hand still noosed around Stephen’s neck. 

Stephen pries in vain at Thanos’ grip. His eyesight begins to swim, but no, _no_ , he has too much to see. “You,” Stephen gasps, “have a funny way of grieving. Spread your suffering to trillions. Leave their lives in ruin like your own.”

“I survived,” Thanos says, “and I’m stronger for it. Those the stones choose to carry on will do the same. I hope you’re one of them, wizard.” He releases his grip. “Go on, you have more to see.” His permission gives Stephen pause, ice down his back. Thanos is toying with him. For what?

Stephen skims past gravesite after gravesite in millions of futures. His glimpse of Titan’s former glory makes the succeeding devastation more grim.

At eight million outcomes, the images turn less familiar. Gone are the blood stained ruins of Titan and the splintered trees bordering Wakanda. Stephen sees an old house on a hill. A morning sun spreads gold across leafy mountain tops. Odd, slender birds graze in the grass beyond the porch.

Stephen sits on the wooden deck floor. Beside him, on a narrow stool, hulks the Titan. Thanos looks out on the valley, hands clasped between his knees. “This is where I'll retire, wizard. I’ll watch the sun rise from here on a grateful universe.” He wears the smoldering remains of the gauntlet, stones worn and metal still smoking.

“It’s quiet,” Stephen observes. “Funny how empty victory feels without anyone to share it with.”

“No sacrifice comes without pain.” Thanos places a hand on Stephen’s shoulder. “Look at you.”

Stephen makes a failed attempt to shrug from under his fingers. “You don’t know me,” he mutters.

“I do, actually.” Thanos takes Stephen’s hand. Slowly, thoughtfully, he traces Stephen’s scars one by one. “I know much about you.”

Finally, Stephen succeeds in wrenching away. He crouches in the furthest corner of the porch, wary. “If you knew me,” he hisses, “you would know my hands have nothing to do with sacrifice.”

Thanos gazes at Stephen a moment longer before returning his eyes to the valley. “Your accident, yes. Self-inflicted - a mistake caused by the recklessness of vanity.” A chill coils down Stephen’s spine. “No, I meant your sacrifice when the outsider arrived. Dormammu, wasn't it? To face an eternity of death, caging yourself in tandem… Death has come for me too, many times. She has taken my home, my family, my favorite daughter. Still, I welcome her so others will not suffer as I have. I call that sacrifice, Stephen Strange.”

The color drains from Stephen’s face. “How?”

“You’ve told me your story,” Thanos says. “Many times.”

500,000 timelines unfurl from this quiet house. Stephen sees himself bound and bloody, his body in varying stages of collapse. Burned. Broken. Babbling nonsense.

Stephen watches his own head tilt in wonder. “I... I think I do belong here,” he tells Thanos. There are many versions of himself who no longer remember what came to pass. To them, Thanos’ bloody touch feels like kindness.

But in some outcomes, Stephen does remember. He watches himself break, tears of despair on his face. A version of Stephen flinches when Thanos drags a hand down his back. He sits resigned, clothes unraveling.

Stephen cannot bear to watch the one who arches in delight under wandering lips. “You’re insane,” Stephen says. But he knows deep down that the stone does not lie; the truth in these images is as real as his own aversion.

“You think so at times,” Thanos concedes. There is fondness in his voice. It makes Stephen’s skin crawl. “In others, you come to feel differently. Every future is a surprise with you.”

“Is this what you do with your power?” Stephen’s voice rises. “You...play with time for your own amusement?”

Thanos chuckles. “I like you,” he says simply. “I’ve earned my rest, and you’ve earned yours, Stephen Strange.”

“Don’t.” Stephen’s voice wavers.

Thanos hums. Around his hand, the green coil of the time stone’s energy glows. With a turn of his wrist, Stephen no longer sees the house up on the quiet hill. The countryside of an unruined Titan replaces it, sunny and peaceful. 

A different Thanos, one of some youth, stands before him. His stature remains imposing, but his face carries fewer lines. Thanos looks naked without his golden armor. His tunic is wound at the waist, his pants of easy fabric.

This shade holds out a hand to greet...Stephen. Another version of himself, the Cloak of Levitation billowing around him.

“I heard you were coming.” Thanos' voice holds a playfulness Stephen has never heard.

“Funny,” this new Stephen replies, “I heard you’re the man who wants to kill half the universe.” It is a joke to them. They smile, and the hand Thanos sets on his back is too familiar.

In the next arrival, Stephen claims he is here on Thanos’ side. “I heard you needed a voice of reason,” he says. And, in full seriousness, “I’m here to help save your world, Thanos. I’ll do what I can.” They share many greetings under sunny skies. Large fingers trace Stephen’s spine as the sun begins to set.

In another timeline, Stephen’s copy chuckles when the Titan kneels behind closed doors. “Don’t let your precious council see you,” this Stephen laughs. “The great Thanos on his knees.”

Thanos smirks at the old joke these two have no doubt shared countless times. “Let them see.” Thanos drags two thumbs up the tented line in Stephen’s slacks. This Stephen falters, knees shuddering.

Stephen turns his back on the scene. “Why the hell would I want to see this?” he hisses. Everywhere he turns, another timeline appears. Hundreds, thousands.

Stephen greets Thanos in public view with a kiss in one. In another, Stephen’s eyes shut as the Titan feasts on his neck. Stephen hoists his heavy cock, needing two hands to rouse him. Stephen’s meager sex by comparison disappears between Thanos’ lips. A new Stephen sprawls on a bed, twisting under slow, teasing kisses. Stephen hears himself say ‘need’ and ‘please’ and ‘love.’

Stephen’s stomach churns, and fury burns wet in his eyes. These futures must be manipulated. One grand joke at Stephen’s expense. But they can’t be. There is a pull in Stephen’s chest, a seed of longing for something that repulses every other piece of him.

Fingers drum the small of Stephen’s back. Stephen shivers before he freezes; it feels like defeat. Stephen pulls away, but curiosity lingers in Thanos’ eyes. Beyond them, Stephen’s shadow gasps and claws mindlessly at bedsheets.

“You think I’m mocking you,” Thanos says. “I’m not. In as many lives as I’ve destroyed you, wizard, I’ve made you happy.”

“Nothing you do brings happiness,” Stephen whispers. His voice fails him like every timeline parading miserably before him.

Stephen sees them together inside the mirror dimension. He sees a door opened inside the New York sanctum and - Stephen pales - a shade of himself welcoming Thanos inside. He sees Dormammu’s dimension torn apart. This Stephen bows tiredly on Thanos’ shoulder as Dormammu and his acolytes are sent to their doom.

Stephen sees himself on his knees before the great Titan. His gauntlet is near complete, save one final piece. “You did it,” this sham of Stephen says. He smiles - _smiles_ \- and willingly hands Thanos the time stone. Fourteen million six-hundred and four. 

The Titan’s blood-stained hands are warm through Stephen’s clothes. Thumbs graze the back of his neck in soft, claiming loops. “You see,” Thanos says, “fate ties us together. I may end you, I may revive you, but in every timeline you belong to me.”

In every timeline.

Stephen closes his eyes, and through the darkness he sees it. Hazy and distant, fourteen million six hundred and five.

“What?” Thanos says, as if waking from a stupor.

Stephen falls, his mind goes blank, then, “Hey!” Someone is shaking him.

Stephen startles awake to Stark in his face and the space guardians hovering nearby. “You’re back, you’re alright,” Stark tells him. Stephen wonders if Stark can fathom how little comfort these words give.

One chance in fourteen million six hundred and five. 

Thanos secures his gauntlet, and Stephen waits for death. Stark’s horrified stare is the last thing Stephen sees before his body crumbles to nothing.

Stephen wakes in the spot of his demise, coughing through unpracticed lungs. His heart pounds, and his mind reels. He was dead, now he lives. Bitterly, Stephen realizes he's become too good at resurrection. 

The Titan kneels before him, the time stone's green energy wound around his wrist. “You have something I need, wizard,” he says. Pain gleams in Thanos’ eyes, and the remains of the gauntlet smolder on his left hand.

Stephen takes Thanos’ right. Thanos' fingers flex, startled, when Stephen draws the hand to his face.

Stephen is not surprised when Thanos takes control, fist winding tight around Stephen’s neck. “My name is Stephen Strange,” he rasps.

Thanos’ grip falters, and he regards Stephen warily.. “Tell me what you’ve seen.”

“I’ve seen your fate tied with mine.” Stephen gasps for breath. "I've seen that I was wrong.”

“Clever,” Thanos says. He sounds exasperated, affectionate, but something dangerous sharpens his gaze. “Master of the mystic arts. A masterful liar too.” It makes sense, of course, that Thanos knows Stephen as intimately as Stephen knows him. He knows what Stephen may try to pull.

Stephen digs past the fog of his reborn mind. He clears the dust of his own undoing, combs through his final memories from the stone. Stephen only has one chance to get this right.

“Let me make it up to you,” Stephen offers. “Please.”

Immediately, Stephen’s chin is seized. Thanos searches Stephen’s eyes, past the glaze of Stephen’s rewoken sight to the secrets within.

Future ten million three hundred thousand and eighty-two begins like this. Contrition. Longing. Thanos knows this, as does Stephen. Stephen closes his eyes and turns away. In this timeline, he is not worthy to look. He has not held up his vow to protect the universe, and his poor foresight shames him. Only Thanos knew the right course. Thanos saved the universe despite them.

Thanos’ grip softens. His mouth, careful, brushes to Stephen’s brow. “I will," Thanos says. For all his might, all his terror, Stephen hears the Titan’s relief. This is ten million, three hundred thousand and eighty-two to the great conqueror. It is not fourteen million six hundred and five.

“Come,” Thanos says. "Prove yourself to me." He draws Stephen close.

Stephen follows, smiling softly. All he can do now is wait.

*The End*


End file.
